


Deluge

by gala_apples



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Established couple, F/M, First Threesome, Flirting, Implied Future Established Polyamory, M/M, Minor Injuries, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Dick follows Hawk and Dove home, to where they can be Hank and Dawn. Funny how taking care of yourself can result in feeling good. It's something Bruce oughta try.





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'shower/bath' prompt on seasonofkink.
> 
> I’ve watched Titans a few times now, and I can’t get over the way Dick and Hank are together. Supposedly Dawn cheated on Hank with Dick, but Hank doesn’t act like he hates him for that. It’s the abandonment, like an ex would feel. So I wrote this pre-canon fic, where the future problem between them will be a break up, not infidelity.

Dick follows Dove and Hawk to their storage locker first. It’s where they keep their suits and weapons, and no, it’s not quite the Batcave, but it works. It’s more honest, in a way he’s increasingly aware Bruce Wayne can’t be. There they change back into Dawn and Hank, denim jackets and converse shoes graffitied with sharpie. Dick wishes it was that easy to shed Robin, but he’s been in this life too long for that. 

He could go home now that he’s in street wear. Drive himself directly to a place filled with stress and pressure and righteousness. But he doesn’t want to. So instead Dick uses the small gash in his hairline as an excuse to follow them to their apartment, like he wouldn’t be capable of first aid in his own room. 

Dawn and Hank rent a place with totally skewed architecture. The bedroom is a loft with wrought iron railings above a small living room. The kitchen has four shelves, and about a laptop’s worth of countertop. The balcony fits exactly two chairs. The bathroom, though. It’s roughly the same size as the other three rooms combined. There’s a tiled shower with a seat and multi head spray. There’s a soaker tub, complete with a tray of lightly scented candles. The double sinks and countertop take up nearly an entire wall. In Wayne Manor everything is that opulent, but Dick knows if he ever had a choice about interior decoration he’d invest in a bedroom, not a bathroom.

Once shoes are kicked off, the couple head for the kitchen, vigilantism apparently being thirsty work. They’ve been bantering for the last ten minutes in the car about what they’ll eat or drink first once they get in. Dick wouldn’t mind a soda, himself. For one thing, he’s thirsty too. For another, it gives him the excuse to stay at least until his drink is finished. Responsibility dictates though that first he’ll need to take a real look at his forehead. It’s still bleeding, and it’s possible he’ll need to stitch it up. After he puts in a called out order for a glass of whatever carbonated thing they’ve got, he ducks into the bathroom. 

Dick is a glaring outlier in this room. This room is aqua and white and silver, all gleamingly clean. The candles have just enough melt to prove they actually get used, but not enough to be aesthetically messy. Meanwhile he’s in all black, head to toe. Even his jacket hanging up near their front door is black. And lets not forget the blood trickling down his face. Kind of out of place compared to the aqua tinted print of various ferns on top of the toilet. He’d fit in at the Manor, of course, with Bruce’s penchant for classic, dramatic furniture. He wishes he didn’t fit, sometimes.

“Awww, fuck,” he hears from the other room. It’s muffled, but he’s pretty sure it’s Dawn cursing.

Dick wonders what’s happened, and if he should mention it when he comes out of the bathroom, or if it would be better to not bring it up. Both of them are stubborn as hell, and aggressive sometimes. Their tempers are one of the reasons Batman doesn’t approve of the crime fighting duo, and one of the reasons Dick feels relief in camaraderie. There’s a difference though, between friendly aggression and poking a bear.

He’s still thinking over the choice when the bathroom door opens and both Hank and Dawn come in. Hank’s got his shirt off. Dawn’s still in her cardigan and shirt, but it’s clearly soaked with something.

“Sorry Dick, buddy, but we gotta have a shower.”

“What?”

“The two litre of soda Dawn dropped then decided to immediately open-”

“I was thirsty!” Dawn interjects.

“Exploded all over us,” Hank finishes. “She’s got texture issues, no way she could handle being sticky until you were done bandaging up. And I don’t want the hot water to be gone by the time she gets out of the shower, so I have to share.”

“Uh. Okay?” What else can Dick say? This is their home he’s crashing. He can leave if he doesn’t like the way they do things. 

Dick keeps his eyes focused on the damp warm cloth he’s applying to the cut. Some of his hair is stuck in the dried blood. It’ll be safer to apply the medical superglue after he cleans out the wound. Holding a cloth doesn’t technically need constant visual contact, but it’s better for his sanity than watching Dawn and Hank undress. Bad enough he hears the thump of damp fabric hitting the laundry basket and knows Dawn’s shirtless.

It gets worse for him before it gets better. As soon as the glass door clicks closed and they move in front of the water, Dick can see them in the reflection of the mirror. The two towels hung up on a suction cup hook on the glass wall do nothing to conceal them from this angle. 

They start their shower innocently enough. Not high school guy’s locker room purely platonic, but nothing more than rubbing their silky loofahs on each other. It’s almost okay that Dick can see Dawn’s nipples and Hank’s balls, because it’s not super sexual. He can stay here and use the only mirror they have in the apartment to fix his head without more than average awkwardness.

Except it _is_ just the start of events. Dick is captive as Hank presses against Dawn’s back, loofah on her collarbone, free hand on her hip. He’s not sure who he wants to be more; Dawn being held by Hank, or Hank getting to touch Dawn’s pale skin. How can he pick one over the other?

It’s when Hank’s cock slides into Dawn that Dick is shaken free of his stupor. He wanted to avoid going home so that he wouldn’t feel lonely, but what’s more lonely than being third wheel next to a couple you admire? 

“See you later,” he mutters as he turns the doorknob. He can’t give specifics. Dick never knows when Batman requires his presence and when he’s got a night to dispense justice in his own way. But Dove and Hawk are out almost every night, so when he finally gets over stewing about tonight’s situation, he’s sure he’ll be able to find them.

“Or you could stay,” Dawn offers softly.

“What?”

“Come in the shower, Dick.” Her voice is so gentle, and sweet. Dick would love to touch her and hear her speak in his ear, smooth like hot chocolate with marshmallows. 

“I-”

“Come in the shower, Dick.”

Hank’s voice is not gentle, but if anything that makes Dick feel better. The relationship between Hank and himself has never been gentle. Friendly adversary, more like. Enemy you hang out with. Dick wasn’t raised right, or maybe he’s always been fucked and it’s in his DNA, but whether it’s nature or nurture, he’s attracted to that jagged dislike. It’s the rough kind of behaviour that makes him _feel_.

There are fifty reasons why not to, but Dick comes to the shower and opens the glass door. He doesn’t step in, still clothed in his post-fighting casual gear, but he’s close enough that he can smell the raspberry pomegranate shower gel they’ve both used. “Should I?”

Dawn grabs him by the collar and tugs him into a kiss. She tastes like the orange soda that coated her cardigan. When Dick steps back to take a breath, and to see if Hank’s about to stab him, he can’t help but notice the wet outline of breasts on his shirt, like a kinky Shroud of Turin. 

“Come in here,” Hank orders again.

Dawn pulls him further into the shower, not giving him the chance to get undressed first. Beyond the corded showerhead, there are three heads embedded in the wall spraying at him. Thanks to the luxury, Dick is soaked through in seconds. It’s enough to make him feel silly, and like Hank will eat him alive. If they’re going to do this, Dick at least has to be able to hold his own. So he strips off his t-shirt and sweatpants and underwear, socks last in the order, and throws them all to the shower bench. 

There’s something about standing in a hot shower after coming in from the Gotham November cold. It electrifies Dick’s skin. Even if he wasn’t wildly turned on by Dawn and Hank, he’d be aroused by the deluge of piping hot water. It’s always been the best place to jerk off in Wayne Manor. And the best part- because his skin starts off cold, tepid feels hot. That means as his skin warms he can keep turning the knob a little to the left, maintaining levels of piping hot. The longer that kind of feeling goes on, the better the shower session.

It’s strange, not knowing what to do with his body. Dick’s entire life has been about moving correctly at the proper instant. First he was a trapeze artist, then a vigilante’s sidekick, then a cop. But Dick’s got no roadmap for this moment. He can only hope Dawn or Hank know what they’re doing.

In the end, it’s Dawn who rescues him from indecision. She steps forward to grab his cock in a slippery with bubbles hand. Dick kisses her, buries his fingers in the tangled ends of her nearly white hair. He wants so much more than this, he wants a hundred thousand things from them both, but a handjob from the most rebellious woman he knows is a very good option.

Dick startles slightly when Hank grabs his ass. He doesn’t know when Hank maneuvered around them, too busy with his mouth on Dawn’s to pay attention to the outside world. Except now Hank’s choices are very noticeably affecting him.

“Babe, pass me the lube?”

It’s a power move, Hank pushing for sex right away. Dick isn’t interested in delaying events, or saying no, but he also doesn’t want to appear desperate. That would put him a level below Hank, which is unacceptable. The only face saving reaction is cockiness.

“Gonna make me have fun? You always complain I’m too serious. Gonna make me fucking _grin_ , Hank?”

“As a matter of fact...”

The first lubed thing to touch him is Hank’s palm. He uses it to rub circles around each ass cheek, to spread Dick’s ass apart like he wants to actually see the hole he’s about to fuck. It figures Dawn and Hank are the kind of couple that have a bottle of silky silicone lubricant in the shower. Dick gets by with shitty drug store scented Wet, because if he has to pay for something with more than change, well, Bruce Wayne gets the credit card statements.

The second lubed thing to touch Dick are fingers. Hank is dripping with lubricant, and he’s smearing it all over Dick’s asscrack. There’s enough that when Dick adjusts his footing he can feel his cheeks slide against each other. 

The third, last, and most important lubed thing to touch him are knuckles. As in, Hank plunges a finger into him, right up to the third knuckle in one movement. It’s kind of a lot to take, and it makes him jump forward into Dawn’s grip. She’s just dropped a dot or two of shower gel on his cock, and the vigorous hand motions have caused it to foam up thoroughly.

“You ready for a fuck, Robin?” Hank taunts.

“Think you can manage it, Hawk?”

Hank glides his finger out to the tip. When he starts pressing in again, he’s leapt up to three. Dick exhales harshly as Hank bulldozes his way into Dick’s ass. The slick lube prevents Hank from stalling out completely, but it is slow going. At least until Hank makes it fast. He starts rocking his hand, hard and rapid, practically daring Dick to not fall in line and accept what’s given.

After a minute or five of harsh handfucking, Hank steals his hand away. It’s a major disappointment in the part of Dick’s brain that doesn’t deal with reality well. Yeah, he wants to be fucked. But having to be empty before it commences is just unforgivable. Lucky for him, Hank must feel the same. Before more than seconds go by, Hank’s shoving his cock past the tight ring of Dick’s ass. Dick tilts his head up to the spray of the detachable showerhead and moans. His open mouth catches a few drops of hot water, which roll down his tongue.

Before tonight Dick would never have guessed Hank’s bisexual. To be fair, the same could probably be said of him. He’s kept his double crush a secret from everyone, even noisy fuckin’ Donna. But it can be clearly said that Hank doesn’t fuck ass like a straight man. Hank’s four strokes in and Dick’s already feeling weak kneed.

Whatever built in ledge had the lube on it, Dick would guess that’s also where Dawn gets the condom. He’s got his eyes closed like that’ll help him brace himself for Hank’s wild fucking, and doesn’t know she’s even getting one until the film of latex is being slid down his cock. His eyes spring open then, and all he gets for the effort is a flirty little smile before she turns her back to him.

Dawn chooses an interesting position. Rather than just lean against the wall like a normal person might, getting cool tile against her nipples, Dawn turns and plants one foot on the shower bench. Then she leans forward and braces her hands against the wall. It leaves her cunt open wide and deep, perfect for Dick to sink into. Her pussy clenches around him, and Dick wants nothing more than to please it, make it wet and sloppy and loose around him. The easiest thing to do is fall into the rhythm Hank is fucking into him. Dick so rarely follows the path of least resistance, but he’s happy to be a conduit for Hank’s skill, and willing to pass the energy forward.

Dawn’s the first to orgasm. It’s good news and bad. Dirk is happy Dawn is enjoying herself, and that he’s caused it. But with her hopping off his dick, it becomes a competition against Hank for who will last longer. Dawn pulls the showerhead to her cunt and rinses away any traces of condom brand lubricant, as well as her own wetness. She’s tidy, at heart. The lack of an overhead spray doesn’t do much to lighten the deluge, Dick’s still in front of the three embedded heads. He reaches behind and out, and manages to feel the tap on his second blind grab. For the fifth or so time he adjusts the water hotter. The way his skin burns makes his cock stiffen impossibly harder.

“Come, you fuckin’ little punk.”

Laughter rings out in the bathroom, echoing beautifully the way half mumbled lyrics do. Dick can’t help it. Hank’s just such a surly, aggressive little asshole. Even when he’s having sex, apparently. Yeah, he definitely got screwed up somewhere along the line to end up finding this hot.

Dick might have considered odds for who’d finish first. What he’s failed to anticipate is Dawn being on Hank’s side. She grabs his sock from the corner of the shower bench and squeezes it above his chest. The drops that rain down on him are cool from the sock being out of the water for ten minutes, and the juxtaposition of a splash of cold water during a steaming hot shower is outrageous. The sensation is almost enough to make him fall over. Instead he settles for tilting his face into the resituated showerhead and breathing heavily. With his head back like that, Hank grabs his hair, forcing him to keep the position. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. It should be degrading, and instead Dick’s coming into the condom still on his cock.

Hank is a considerate lover, for a bastard. He pounds away at Dick through his orgasm, making sure to punch out every available drop of come from his prostate. And when Dick is spent, he pulls out before things begin to get uncomfortable, instead finishing on the small of his back. Not that there’s any proof of it. After milliseconds the spray of water has washed all of it away like chalk on a sidewalk.

They don’t linger in the shower for too long after that. Dick’s never cared enough to inquire about their expenses, but he has to assume an apartment with a bathroom like this makes them pay separately for utilities. Dick applies a line of medical superglue to his cut, and wishes for the smell of pomegranate to overtake the cyanoacrylate. It’s so very _him_ , to wipe out the feelings of affection and satisfaction with battle wounds. That’s another personality quirk he has to thank Bruce for.

Once out of the bathroom no one gets gussied up. Dawn puts on a hoodie and geometric print yoga pants. Hank’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a Henley shirt. Seeing as his clothes are sopping wet in the shower still, Dick borrows boxers and sweatpants and another Henley. It’s a bit horrifying that he’d probably fit better in a shirt of Dawn’s than a shirt of Hank’s. Emasculating in a way he wants to be better than to care about. But Hank’s clothes are soft, if enormous, and warm enough that he’ll make it on the sidewalk until the cabbie he’s about to call pulls up.

Hank and Dawn seem surprised when he goes for his shoes. He’s not really sure why. They’ve already settled on the couch that takes up the majority of the living room, Hank fooling around with the remote. It’s too domestic for him to be here. They need their time alone. Right?

“Don’t fuckin’ go home to him. Not yet,” Dawn pleads, in her tender way.

“Yeah, fuck Batmanbitch. Crash here.”

It’s not a long term solution. Sooner or later Dick is going to have to figure out how to deal with the rising discomfort about being a trusting, naive, worshiping at the alter sidekick, about living in the man’s house and never being able to get away. He’s been trying since he got adopted, and he’s never quite made it out. But snuggling in with Hank and Dawn is an entirely plausible short term solution. So he throws himself bodily onto the couch facing the wall mounted tv, between Hank on his right and Dawn on his left, much like in the shower. If midnight reruns of CSI are threesome aftercare, well sign him up. He’ll take this over Alfred confiscating his weapons to clean and a lecture from Bruce any day.


End file.
